


A Hero with a False Name

by Anonymous



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Credence Barebone Gets a Hug, Credence Barebone Lives, F/M, Fantastic Beasts Kink Meme, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, I haven't written fic in eight years y'all so be prepared, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Marylou Barebone is her own warning, That means there's going to be corpses and explosions, The Scamander's bad parenting, There are war flashbacks in this, Wartime, alternating pov, smut will come later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 03:10:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11477382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Newt Scamander has a secret, one which he's carried with him since the Great War. He didn't work with the dragon corps, and he wasn't on the Eastern Front; in order to protect his brother from the wrath of their parents, Newt took his brother's place in the war. There he met a young soldier, and fell in love. After the war, after he'd left his lover, Newt buried himself in his study of magical creatures, and for a time he was alright. But when he's passing through New York, on his way to releasing a recuperated Thunderbird, Newt comes face to face with Percival Graves, the man he'd left behind after the war. The only problem is, the man standing in front of him now is not the man he fell in love with, and Newt would very much like to know where he is.





	1. Chapter 1

 

The voyage to America had been a smooth one, but Newt still found himself feeling rather ill. He was just going to stop in New York to get his wand permit, and then he’d leave for Arizona immediately, he wouldn’t be anywhere near the security department. Wouldn’t be anywhere near _him._ There was no reason for him to be so anxious, it wasn’t as if the head of magical security would be down in the permits office after all. Newt swallowed the lump in his throat painfully, and let himself think of the circumstances which had led him to Percival Graves.

_They’d just received word, Turkish forces had fallen in Megiddo, Germany had asked for armistice, and, after a brief mutiny from their navy, signed a treaty with the allied forces. The war was over; they could finally go home. Newt had been overcome with a wave of conflicting emotions; on the one hand the fighting was over, they didn’t have to live every moment in fear of death anymore, but on the other he would have to go home to a rather uncertain future._

_Newt was only supposed to be there to do his part, to aid the muggle forces the way his brother had intended to. He had one job, and that was to get through the war, return home and fade back into obscurity. His brother would have a good record, honorable discharge maybe, and would then be able to carry on with his dreams of becoming an auror. Newt still wasn’t sure how to feel about his parents almost violent reactions to Theseus decision to join in the war effort- they hadn’t even been that angry when Newt had been expelled, though it certainly came close. They had begged at first, but when his brother refused to budge, stubborn Gryffindor that he was, his parents turned cruel- they threatened to disinherit him, to disinherit them both, if he proceeded to go to war. He was their baby boy, their heir, he couldn’t gamble his life on something so unpredictable as war, least of all a muggle war. That night, after everyone had gone to bed, Newt thought long and hard about what he was going to do. Theseus didn’t believe their parents would disinherit them, he thought they were merely bluffing, and that, when he came home, they’d forgive him his need to serve, “We’ve no right to sit by and let the muggles fight while we sit with our thumbs up our arses. I have to do this, Newt, for king and country!” he’d guffawed, trying to lighten the mood. But Newt knew otherwise._

_Newt knew their parents meant business- they’d shown him just how serious they were, how angry they were, when they’d received word of his expulsion: he’d already been removed from their estates, and wills, they just hadn’t felt the need to mention it to Theseus when they’d threatened him. Newt refused to let his brother throw away a promising career over his bullheadedness- theirs was a very proprietary society, and something so bad as being disinherited would make it so much more difficult for Theseus to chase his dreams. It was terrible to think, but Newt knew that Theseus would likely be unable to fulfill his aspirations if he was disinherited- that the purebloods running the Ministry would see him as a disgrace and therefore unfit to serve as an auror- power and competence be damned._

_So, with the consequences to his brother at the forefront of his mind, Newt went to their parent’s rooms. They were not terribly happy to see him, their favorite son refused to see sense and now they had to deal with the disappointment on top of everything else. “What is it Newton? Do not try to plead your brother’s case, you know very well we will see he is stripped of his inheritance if he refuses to see sense,” his father intoned hotly. His mother merely nodded her head primly, her eyes still puffy and red rimmed. Newt shook his head as he said, “I’m n-not here to try and convince you to let Theseus go. I know this isn’t an em-empty threat, and I know he won’t be able to f-follow his dreams if you follow through. I-I’m here to ask you to l-let me go in his st-stead.” The gob smacked look on his parent’s faces would have made him laugh under normal circumstances, but as it was Newt was merely resigned._

_“Absolutely not! It’s bad enough that your brother wants to fight- he’s at least a competent duelist- but you want to smear our family name further by attempting to enlist, by defying the ministry so openly!? You were a below average student at Hogwarts, who couldn’t even manage to graduate without nearly being expelled, you’d be killed in the first altercation! No. I refuse to be embarrassed by you in such a public fashion again. Your brother will see sense, or he will not inherit the lands and titles befitting the heir of our house.” The steely glint in Ignatius Scamander’s eyes was nearly overwhelming, and Newt fought hard to maintain eye contact- it wouldn’t do for his plans to fail because he couldn’t look people in the eye._

_“No father, I won’t be enlisting, Theseus will, at least, that’s what it will say on paper.” His parents voiced their confusion, “What do you mean? We’ve just had this discussion, Newton, your brother cannot go, he is our only heir, and we refuse to let you embarrass us any further!” Newt pursed his lips and then, looking both in the eye told them his plan. “Theseus wants to make sure to do his part in the war, he feels obligated, and you and I both know that he’ll do what he wants, both as a patriot, and because he’s bound and determined to do the right thing, whether or not it’s in accordance with the law; so, I will take his place. Theseus will stay here- threaten only to disinherit me, perhaps that will stop him, or say they’d sentence me to Azkaban, anything to keep him from following- and I will serve in his stead. I know you don’t think I can do anything but embarrass you, but I can stay alive long enough to guarantee that Theseus gets his wish- I will aid the muggles as he wants, he will have a proper military background, and the Scamander name won’t be tarnished. Please. Don’t let him ruin his life, let me take his place. I swear I won’t let you down. Not in this.”_

_After much debating, Ignatius and Diana Scamander finally agreed to Newt’s terms; he would take his brother’s place so that they would not lose their proper heir, and they wouldn’t disinherit his brother. Newt enlisted the next morning, after having put his brother under a rather heavy sleeping jinx, and left for basic training immediately. When he received Theseus’ owl three days into training, he was lucky his brother hadn’t sent a howler, though Newt imagined it’d been a near thing. Theseus was livid, how dare their parents use Newt to keep him home, and how could Newt go along with their cockamamie scheme? Newt’s reply was an assurance that he would be fine and that everything would work out for the best._

_He hadn’t intended to garner so much attention to himself, honestly, he’d only been trying to save his men. But here he was, a bloody war hero, likely headed toward commendations or some other such nonsense- Ministry rules paled in comparison to what he’d “accomplished”. He wasn’t a hero, he’d only been doing the right thing, he didn’t need accolades for being a decent human being. Though, he supposed, in a time where men were dying for a few feet of land every other day, it could be considered commendable to want to save the lives of his fellow soldier at great risk to himself. Still, he wasn’t a hero he was a- “Theseus!” He was a bloody buggering liar, that’s what he was. Closing his eyes, Newt turned to watch as Percival jogged over to meet him, brandishing papers no doubt further confirming the news of peace, Newt felt a terrible weight settle in his stomach as he took the older man in, tried to burn the memory of his deep brown eyes, and his disbelieving smile into his mind. Newt couldn’t see him after this, couldn’t continue the fragile romance they’d struck up one night after another day of pointless loss. He couldn’t keep lying to the man he’d come to love._

_Their entire relationship was built upon a lie, after all. Percival knew him as Theseus; that’s what he’d introduced himself as, and that’s the name Percival used when they drank together. It was the name Percival used when they told each other about their homes, and their dreams of the future. Theseus was the name Percival whispered harshly when Newt went down on his knees for the first time to suck him off. Worst of all, though was what Percival went on to say later that very night, after the celebrations had died down and they’d hidden away for a bit of privacy. After they had rutted against each other and snogged like a pair of swooning teens, Percival had looked up from Newt’s shoulder, and, cupping his cheek, stated, “I think I’m in love with you, Theseus Scamander.” That, more than anything, drove home the reality of the situation, and how careless Newt had been. Now, it was not only his own heart which would be broken, but Percival’s as well; so, for both of their sakes, he had to let the other man go. Percival would leave with the other Americans when they were shipped home, and Newt would return to England immediately. He’d managed to make a few contacts with the Dragon Corps while they’d been on a stopover at his unit’s camp, they informed him of positions in need of filling after the war had ended, so Newt had something waiting for him as well. With the knowledge that he would likely never see Percival Graves again, and that what he was doing was a terrible disservice to the man himself weighing heavily on his heart, Newt Scamander left his lover’s side and headed toward the communications tent; he was owed a small favor, and getting to head home a smidge early couldn’t hurt anyone._

Newt was pulled from his melancholy thoughts when the latches of his case snapped open abruptly. With a soft, indulgent smile, he pushed his hurt down and leaned toward the case, saying softly, “Dougal, do settle down now, please. We’ll be there soon.”


	2. Chapter 2

I.

Newt hated customs, it didn’t matter the country, they always made him anxious; from the heavy press of bodies, and the frantic energy to the forced eye contact with customs officials, the process tended to leave him terribly exhausted. It was difficult enough handling the constant over stimulation of everyday life, or even the constant angry hum of the war front- there was a monotony to both situations, even if one was rather terrifying, but now he felt like a caged beast, ironically. He sighed deeply, and tried to remind himself that the stress would be worth it in the long run. Frank deserved to go home, and the easiest way to Arizona, without being absolutely on the wrong side of the law, was through New York city. After a near thing with one of the latches of his case Newt began his trek to the Woolworth building.

Percival often spoke of his home, trying to take both of their minds off of one tragedy or another during the war, but nothing the man said could have prepared Newt for the sheer enormity of the man’s city of birth. People bustled back and forth across streets, automobiles and horses slogged through the worn roads, and most impressive of all were the towering iron structures which seemed to claw at the sky to which they were raised. They stood as monuments to the power of sheer ingenuity and shone brightly in the hazy sunlight of the inner city. Fascinating, the things muggles could do without magic, truly fascinating. Thinking of the other man sent a bitter twist of regret through Newt’s chest, but he breathed through the sadness; no reason to worry over the past, what’s done is done, as they say, and Newt had no use for worrying- least of all about things he couldn’t change.

Newt was broken from his reverie by a woman’s ardent voice- something about the wonders of the city. Standing on the steps of a muggle bank was a harsh looking woman preaching about the evils of magic and extoling the virtues of another Salem Witch Trial. With her were two girls, and a rather gaunt looking young man who could have given Newt a run for his money in his ability to make himself seem smaller. The poor boy was clearly mal-treated, likely by the woman preaching her hatred to the world, and gave Newt a strange sense of déjà vu. As Newt tried to remember where he’d gotten the feeling, a stout man ran into him, knocking over his case, and leading them both to trouble.

His Niffler had led him on a merry chase through the bank, which had ended in the bank manager’s petrification, and left the muggle who’d tripped over Newt in need of obliviating. He’d been about to relieve the man of his memories when he got a trunk to the face, the muggle waddling off into the growing crowd of onlookers, and a very irate auror threatening him over breaching the statute of secrecy. Newt felt rather insulted by that- he’d been _trying_ to obliviate the man before he’d been struck, honestly.

So, Newt found himself being bodily marched toward the Woolworth building, excuses about Apalooza Puffskeins on his lips- though it seemed the woman didn’t believe him. Bugger. One lift ride later he was being pulled into a room full of important looking people, and the one man he was most terrified to see. Percival Graves was unmistakable in his smart bespoke, black fabric cleaving to his burly form as he bent up from whatever he and his compatriots had been discussing before Ms. Goldstein had barged in. While she was being berated for the intrusion Newt struggled to breathe- he was terrified to look into those lovely brown eyes and see only contempt or scorn. Heaving a breath Newt chastised himself for being so cowardly and finally took the chance to meet Percival’s eyes. Or at least, he’d tried to. Percival wasn’t paying any attention to him at all, save a glance one usually saved for strangers. No, he was more concerned with Ms. Goldstein’s conversation with the president of MACUSA than with Newt, and he tried not to feel any hurt over that.

Summarily dismissed, Ms. Goldstein grabbed him by the elbow and escorted Newt down to wand permits, where she proceeded to press him further about his travels, and outright horrify him with her thoughts on magical creatures. An extermination guide indeed! As she was being berated further, by a man whom Newt could only assume was her supervisor, Percival chose that moment to stroll into the room. He should have known, Percival was a consummate professional and would certainly never show any ire he had for Newt in front of the president of all people. No. He’d waited until his work was completed before he came and gave Newt a piece of his mind- he could only hope Percival would dismiss Goldstein and the other man before he had the mickey torn out of him.

Shocking Newt further, Percival continued to ignore his presence altogether, preferring to speak to _Tina_ about her actions. When she yanked his case from his slackened hands Percival looked at him for the first time to quiet his protests, before opening the case. The compartment open, Newt couldn’t fathom what he was seeing- rather than the rungs to his safe haven, or even the image he used to confuse muggles, there were numerous pastries in varying states of disarray. Newt was flabbergasted. Where were his creatures!? He shared a horrified look with Goldstein before Percival’s disappointed sigh of, “Tina,” drew their attention. Without another word Percival left the room, never looking back at Goldstein or Newt, the other man- Abernathy- trailing behind.

Newt stood stock still, his breathing becoming shorter the longer he stared after ‘Percival’. There hadn’t been any shouting or rage, not even a cold statement of resentment. In fact, there hadn’t been any emotion for Newt in that man’s eyes at all- it was as if Percival didn’t know him. But, that was impossible; several years though it had been Newt still looked relatively the same, his hair longer perhaps, but still the same coppery brown shade which Percival had admitted to loving once. Something was wrong here, and every one of Newt’s instincts were screaming at him to figure out what that wrongness was.

Newt thought back to the war, to all the time that he had spent with Percival Graves, in the trenches, around camp fires, on the field- in none of those instances did Newt remember the man behaving as he just had. The way he spoke to Tina had sounded supportive, perhaps even sympathetic, but Newt felt an edge of condescension when he’s asked to “see the little guy,” after Ms. Goldstein had snatched up his case. He concentrated on the man’s eyes just now, the way they had looked, almost bored rather than being concerned over his subordinate’s outburst in front of the most important person in the entirety of their government. There had been no warmth whatsoever in those familiar eyes, no emotion outside of bland curiosity, and suddenly Newt felt a cold lance of fear pierce through his chest. Whoever that man claimed to be, that was not Percival Graves. Which begged the questions, who was the man strutting about MACUSA as if he held all the authority in the world, and where was the real Percival Graves?

 


	3. Chapter 3

II.

As the two men left, and Newt was left in the office with Ms. Goldstein, he struggled not to panic outwardly. This was horrible, absolutely horrible; his creatures were missing, lost somewhere in this concrete jungle, surrounded by the most vicious animals on the planet, and Percival, _his Percival_ , was in terrible danger. Breathing in slowly, Newt collected himself and began to arrange his thoughts. He needed to focus, he needed his babies with him. He needed more information.

Setting off the spell he’d designed to locate his cases’ magical signature, Newt left the Woolworth building, noting Ms. Goldstein was following behind, muttering about the statute, and how this was the worst possible time to have a ‘situation’ as she called it. Newt grit his teeth and reminded himself that she’s a former auror, that her first priority would be the statute of secrecy and nothing else, though he can’t help the kernel of resentment in his chest; had she worked with Percival? Did she know him, how could she fail to notice?

Newt’s spell led them across town to a tenement building, a growing crowd milling out front, shouting about an explosion. As they got closer, and Newt overheard the description of what had caused the damage, he started subtly obliviating bystanders; it wouldn’t do for any of them to remember an erumpent after all. With the muggles preoccupied Newt flew up the steps, toward the epicenter of the damage, repairing things as he went. By the time he found his case, and the last of the bricks was falling back into place, Ms. Goldstein was blustering into the room.

“It was opened?” she pleaded. Newt replied curtly, “A smidge,” before they were interrupted by a groan from the corner of the room. While Ms. Goldstein looked the muggle over, Newt latched his case, and breathed deeply to try and center himself. He’d need to go inside and see who all was missing, but for the most part his babies were safe.

Newt was reaching his wits end: Ms. Goldstein had reamed him up one side and down the other about not obliviating the muggle, and then decided that the man needed to retain his memories as a witness, _and then_ they were assaulted by his murtlap, which had apparently bitten the man. Now he was stuck with a muggle suffering from complications from a murtlap bite, an ex-auror who didn’t know how to keep her nose out of other people’s business, some of his creatures were missing and he _still_ didn’t know how to start looking for Percival. His “quick trip” to America was turning out to be a terrible headache.

Agitation got the best of Newt, and he couldn’t help but grouse, “Why are you still here, Ms. Goldstein? You’re no longer an auror, as such you don’t have any right to be harassing a foreign national.” He felt guilty before he’d uttered the last syllable, because Ms. Goldstein turned an odd shade of grey before averting her gaze to the muggle. The man in question sat there, bleary eyed and clearly confused. “What’s a oar-oarer?” That seemed to settle Ms. Goldstein’s ire, because she explained to the muggle-“Call me Jacob,”- about what an _auror_ was, while Newt stewed in his guilt.

Fidgeting nervously, Newt cleared his throat, saying, “I-I apologize M-Ms. Goldstein, th-that was terribly r-rude and rather uncalled- uncalled for. I know i-it doesn’t mean much, b-but I’m not usually so obnoxious.” Ms. Goldstein drew up to her full height for a moment, before deflating, and replied, “It’s, well, it’s not alright, but you’re not exactly wrong either. I’ve had a pretty bad go of things recently, and I guess I was just so eager to try and get back in Mr. Graves good graces I was willing to be a bit obtuse.” This made Newt perk up a bit. “D-Do you know Mr. Grave well?”

Ms. Goldstein looked at him funny, but stated sheepishly, “He was my mentor in the academy, and my boss, up until about a month ago; I uh, violated the statute of secrecy and, long story short, there was a big scandal and I ended up in wand permits.” Newt wrung his hands, eyes darting around Ms. Goldstein’s face, as he continued his inquiry. “Has he seemed off to you, recently? T-That is, has he been behaving in any way that might seem out of character; perhaps a turn of phrase that doesn’t fit o-or a habit that wasn’t there before?” Narrowing her eyes, Ms. Goldstein inquired, “What do you mean? Why would you want to know something like that?” Unable to find a believable way of saying, ‘Well I think your boss, my ex-lover, is being impersonated,’ Newt decided to deflect.

“N-No reason, but we have a problem. I doubt that the murtlap was the only creature to escape my case, if the damage to the alleyway is anything to go by; I need a place to check and see which of the others have gotten out.” She clearly didn’t miss the change of subject, but with the damage done just minutes ago she overlooked it, and asked, “I know I’m gonna regret this, but how many creatures are we talking? Are they dangerous? Like that murtlap thing?”  Avoiding her eye Newt stammered, “No-None of my creatures are dangerous, Ms. Goldstein.” The blank stares he received from the other two people in the room made Newt wince.

Sighing, Ms. Goldstein pinched the bridge of her nose and exclaimed, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you can come with me. We need a place to keep Mr. Kowalski anyway, at least until he gets better, then we’ll decide what to do with him.” Mr. Kowalski looked a bit dubious, but he was outnumbered. Grabbing up his case, Newt took hold of Ms. Goldstein’s elbow, while she grabbed onto Mr. Kowalski, and then they disapparated.

When they landed, Newt was assaulted by an array of homey smells, and gentle humming. When Ms. Goldstien opened the door to the sitting room, Mr. Kowalski let out an unintelligible whimper, and Newt couldn’t really blame him. In front of them stood a young woman who epitomized the current fashion in America; she was all slender lines, and finger curls, subtle makeup, and coy smiles. If Newt wasn’t still nursing his broken heart, he might even find himself attracted to her. A bell like laugh came from the young woman, and Newt took a moment to wonder whether or not this young woman was part veela.

“Aw, that’s real sweet, honey, but no veela blood here- Teens and I are both just regular ol’ witches.” Startled, it took Newt a moment to realize he hadn’t said anything out loud, and then another to feel a bit sick. “Y-You’re a legilimens,” he stated. She nodded before returning to her sewing, and asking Ms. Goldstien, “Why don’t you introduce us, Tina, I think these two are a little confused.” Taking off her coat and hat Ms. Goldstien complied with a huff. “Mr. Kowalski, Mr. Scamander, this is my sister Queenie, she works at the Woolworth building with me.” Mr. Kowalski seemed to be utterly smitten, and the other Ms. Goldstien seemed to find everything rather hilarious.

Comfortable as it was Newt began to feel anxious; he really did need to check his creatures. At the very least his erumpent was missing, and the blasted Niffler had decided to take the opportunity to run for the hills. Ms. Goldstein, _Tina_ , chose that moment to interrupt his chain of thought. “Alright, let’s get this over with; do a head count and figure how many of those things got loose so we can find them before anyone gets hurt.” Newt tried not to feel upset about how Tina referred to his babies, but it was hard. _‘It’s not her fault,’_ he reminded himself, _‘She wasn’t taught any better. This is why you’re writing you book, Scamander, so you can educate people as to why magical creatures are so important.’_

After Mr. Kowalski squeezed his way through the opening, Newt lead them into his shed, and proceeded to tend to Mr. Kowalski’s murtlap bite. As he was cutting up meat for the graphorns, the Goldsteins milled about, Tina looking dubiously at some of his plants, while Queenie seemed terribly curious. “A-Alright, it’s feeding time, which should make it easier to count everyone, so, i-if you would, I could do with so-some assistance.” Newt said to the room at large.

Tina looked unsure, but before she could voice her concerns Queenie interrupted, “Sure, we’d love to!”  The matter settled, Newt instructed the group to follow him, and not to stray; nothing in his case was a natural danger, but could be harmful if provoked- just like any other living thing. Passing through the graphorn enclosure, he found the little family in good sorts, then came the grindylows, Frank and the marmite, who was growing splendidly. After scolding the runespoor’s leftmost head, and making sure the kappa had its human supplements, Newt made his way back to the shed.  There he checked on the state of the bowtruckles, occamies, niffler, erumpent and Dougal, the demiguise. Sure enough, the niffler had decided to make a break for it, the erumpent wasn’t in her enclosure, and, though he couldn’t be entirely sure, it appeared Dougal had pulled a runner as well. Bollocks.

“So, how bad is it?” Ms. Goldstein’s inquiry made him jump. Newt cleared his throat, twice, before answering her. “T-Thankfully, it appears that only one of my miss-missing creatures is terrible conspicuous- the erumpent- the others are rather easy to miss.” Ms. Goldstein crossed her arms skeptically. “Uh huh. Right, and what are these missing creatures like?” He had to give her credit for her tenacity, it would have made her a rather good auror, which just made her demotion odder to him. It was likely done by Percival’s imposter. Before Newt could explain to Tina why the niffler and Dougal were almost certainly unlikely to be seen, the sound of one of his feeding pales hitting the ground interrupted him.

“What do you mean, Mr. Scamander? Somebody’s impersonating Mr. Graves?” Next to him Tina shot him an incredulous look, blood rushing from her face, before she advanced on him in agitation. “Yeah, what _do you_ mean, Mr. Scamander?” Newt stood there, avoiding looking at any of them, while Pickett chittered in his hair. Well, at least now he might have some help figuring things out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad you all like this, it means a lot. This should be the last chapter where I rehash canon, the rest should be AU all the way. Thank you so much, for all your support! ^_^


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SORRY, you guys, this is way later than I wanted, but lots of things got in the way of this chapter getting finished. First and foremost it was writer's block, fuck I hate that shit, but there's also the fact that I finally got a job! And weirdly went from part time to full time in the span of 2 days on the job, and then got a raise, and now I'm working almost all week and sleeping for shit, but I promise I'm going to keep going with this. Thanks so much for all of the kudos and comments, I love hearing from all of you! ^_^ I hope you liked the chapter!

IV.  
Percival Graves was not a man prone to regret, but considering his current situation he should be forgiven a bit of melancholy. Here he was, bound and tortured in one of his own safe houses, being impersonated by arguably the darkest wizard of the age, and nobody was any the wiser. He couldn’t help but laugh dully; maybe if he’d been more open to new relationships, or getting close to people this wouldn’t be happening, but to be honest, he was afraid. Percival Graves, head of MACUSA’s department of magical law enforcement, veteran of the Great War, and accomplished auror, was afraid of close personal relationships. Though, in his defense, he’d been rather badly burned in the past. And the worst part about it, was that he still had feelings for the son of a bitch. There really wasn’t any way around it, Percival still loved Theseus Scamander, and he’d been overcome by Grindelwald, in part, because of his love.

  
He'd been part of a special task force sent to partner with some of the most powerful aurors in the MoM, with the intent to locate and capture Gellert Grindelwald. Percival hadn’t originally planned to go, not when he heard who was heading the Ministry task force, but Sera had forced him to “be a big boy” and confront his past. He spent the days leading up to their first meeting agonizing over what he’d say to Theseus. Should he yell? Should he hit him? Should he just be indifferent? How pathetic would he be if he told Theseus how much he’d hurt him by running away? All of his mulling about was for nothing, though, because when he and his aurors entered the office afforded to the joint task force, he didn’t see Theseus. He’d been about to ask one of the Brits where their leader was when a tall, red haired man approached them to introduce himself. “Hello, my name’s Theseus Scamander, I’m the head of the DMLE, and I’ll be assisting with your mission.”

Percival was ashamed to admit that he froze for a moment, though considering the curveball he’d just been thrown he’d like to think he recovered well. “Director Percival Graves. Thank you, for your assistance.” The man nodded and then turned to address the aurors who’d lined up behind him. “Alright, ladies and gentlemen,” he began, “This is Percival Graves, my counterpart within MACUSA. You’ll be going with him and his team to investigate a location which reports suggest is under use by Grindelwald. You are to follow his directions as if they were my own.” The man grimaced, before continuing, “I’d be joining you, but the Minister say that he has need of me in other matters.” After that Percival zoned out a bit, only offering grunts of acknowledgement when he was spoken to; he was too preoccupied by the situation unfolding before him to really pay attention to the meeting- a fact which would usually make him furious.

This was wrong. This was so, so wrong. Percival’s teeth ached with how hard he was clenching his jaw to try and keep quiet. Someone had infiltrated the Ministry of Magic, nearly to its highest level, and the best aurors in the building were following the imposter’s orders as if he wasn’t a pale imitation of the man he was impersonating. Certainly, he was of a similar height, and had red hair, but the similarities between Theseus and the man before him ended there. Where Theseus was deceptively lithe, with wiry muscle chording his form, this man was fairly brawny, packed with more pronounced musculature. His red hair was straight, and nearly orange, whereas Theseus hair was like copper waves. This man’s face was plain and unblemished, while Theseus had freckles all over his body, and this man’s eyes were more grey than the green-blue Theseus had and. They could have passed as brothers, possibly, but there was no way this man could have been mistaken for Theseus Scamander without the aid of serious bewitchment, illegal potions or, worst of all, a corruption within the ranks which would allow for this farce. Percival silently mulled over the situation, before deciding that he would wait until he and his men could leave for their lodgings to say anything.

After they’d laid out a rough draft of their formation for the reconnaissance, Percival begged off an invitation to dinner, saying his men had been going full tilt for a few days and that he needed them fresh. His aurors grumbled behind him, giving a bit of credence to his status as a stick in the mud, before they settled down and shuffled out of the office. As he was leaving, the imposter approached him. “Director Graves,” he said, “Please look after my men; they’re my best aurors and are an integral part of my department. I trust you’ll look after them the same way you look after your own.” Percival fought hard to fight back a flinch when the red head gripped his shoulder in some kind of show of comradery; the man’s touch only served to make Percival’s skin crawl. Percival nodded stiffly and said, “Of course, Director Scamander, I can assure you I’ll do everything in my power to look after your men,” before turning to follow his own group.

After, Percival could only reel over the level of corruption that was in the Ministry. When he and the others had been betrayed by one of “Theseus’” best aurors, and lead into a trap, where most of them were obliterated in a single breath, Percival thought he would die. Unfortunately, his fate was much worse than that of the aurors Grindelwald had destroyed.

Grindelwald, like some kind of a villain from a nomaj film, described some of his plans to Percival as he bound his magic. He was going to assume Percival’s identity, report back to MACUSA of the massacre on his watch, nearly all of the special task force snuffed out save for himself and a handful of negligible aurors, and then return to work. Grindelwald had had a vision of a powerful force hidden within New York- something dark, and terrifying, which Percival had believed to be a myth. There hadn’t been a recorded obscurial in the US since the Salem Witch Trials, but Grindelwald was sure that a child in his city had been so abused, so overlooked, that their magic had turned inward and become violent.

That child would be a key component in the effort to force a war between wizardkind and the nomaj, a war which, Grindelwald believed, would leave wizards the dominant force on the planet. Percival wasn’t as certain of their superiority. They may be ass backward about a great many things, but one thing the nomaj excelled at was their ability to destroy any and everything that frightened them. For all that they were lacking in magic, nomaj’s were terrifyingly close to alchemy when it came to their ability to create destructive machines using things that shouldn’t make anything.

After the initial round of cruciatus induced seizures, Grindelwald had taken some of Percival’s hair and left him to stew in his own basement. Watching Grindelwald’s smarmy face bubble into a parodied facsimile of his own left Percival feeling ill, and, wondering if Theseus had suffered the same fate. Had he been betrayed by one of his men, and then imprisoned, and impersonated? Was he even still alive or had Grindelwald murdered him and left his little minion to assume his life? Why did he even care- outside of professional courtesy, and the fact that they were both being used as pawns by a genocidal prick, Percival shouldn’t give a rat’s ass about the red-haired man. But he did. Morgana help him, he still loved that son of a bitch, and stuck as he was his brain decided to torture him some with one of the greatest losses he’d ever suffered.

Theseus Scamander was a sore subject for Percival; his first love and greatest heartbreak. He’s spent literal years trying to understand why the other man did what he did, why he’d left Percival behind without so much as a word. He’s asked himself, too, why he continues to let it hurt him so badly, this loss. They’d met during the war, a time when everything was easily lost- food, water, ammunition, time- Percival should have known the moment they met that anything he and Theseus had together would likely end with the war, if not a stray bullet or spell. But it was so easy, falling for him; it was so easy to grow close to the other man, with his kind smile, quiet fortitude, and stalwart nature.  
The lanky Brit had come off as an oddity, but in the end, it was his quirks which made Percival love him. He never failed to complete a task- even seemed to become agitated if he couldn’t finish something- and was probably the only person in their regiment who worked as hard as Percival, if not more so. He was private, and often remained silent unless spoken to directly, but he was so unfailingly kind that Percival had to wonder why he was involved with such carnage and wanton destruction at all.  
Percival later found that for all he was kind and quiet, there was a daringly steel core to Theseus, one which belayed a stunning power.

They’d already been working together in the fields for months when Percival finally saw what Theseus was capable of. Some of the younger men had tried to move their assault forward, only to have half of them blasted away, the rest languishing in No Man’s Land. Strewn about the field, they were too far from their own trenches for Percival to safely retrieve them, and even worse, enemy combatants seemed to have noticed their presence. Percival looked to Theseus, sure he would see a matching look of resignation for the boys’ fate, only to watch as the other man moved back from the trench, wand in hand. With tight movements Theseus began weaving magic which Percival was unfamiliar with. The next moment the hard-packed soil of the trench wall began to come away in a rough tunnel.

Before Percival could utter a single protest, Theseus sprinted into the cavern, wand at the ready, and he could do nothing but follow the red head in mute shock. “Are you insane?!” he questioned. Without looking backward Theseus huffed out, “Probably,” before stopping at the end of the tunnel, and laying one side of his face against to cool earth. As Percival looked on in incredulity of the man before him, Theseus lifted his wand and began to mutter an incantation, his movements reminiscent of an orchestral conductor.

In time with the movement of Theseus’ hand, roots began to slither from the wall and ceiling of the cavern, moving like living things to Theseus’ will. After a moment his hand stopped, and he looked up at Percival. “On three, I’m going to push through the last layer of soil between us, and them, are you with me?” he asked. Percival didn’t know whether to scream or laugh- Theseus was a fucking lunatic, and they were both going to die. Percival took a steadying breath, before nodding once and raising his wand to attack.

On Theseus’ signal the wall fell forward and the two men charged into the enemy trench. The trenches were warded against aparation, obviously, but clearly their enemy was not prepared for such a muggle method of breach. Theseus dispatched the two closest enemies, while Percival got another three, before they were noticed, and then things really went to hell. There were about eight other wizards in the trench with them, so they were forced onto the defensive quickly, blocking hexes, stunners, and even the killing curse here and there. They wove back and forth between attack and defense; Percival would throw a powerful cutting jinx, and Theseus would follow with a summoning charm to pull the enemy into the path of the attack.

Later, when all that was left were him, Theseus, and the cooling corpses of their enemies, Percival took a moment to observe the other man. For all that he was tall, taller than Percival, he seemed to steadily fold in on himself, hunching his shoulders, almost as if to appear smaller. Percival was able to observe him for a few minutes more before Theseus straightened up, and looked toward the edge of the trench. “We should go get the others now,” he said, voice a desolate rasp. Without waiting for a reply, Theseus took the ladder closest to himself, and climbed up toward their wayward compatriots.

On the way back to camp, Percival observed Theseus as he levitated their inured companions silently, noting that the man seemed to shuffle forward through sheer stubbornness- he looked as if he’d fall any moment. After they saw the boys, and really, they could be called nothing else, not after the stunt they’d pulled, Percival tried to get the other man to have himself checked over. He’d seen Theseus catch a hex in the side- but the ginger quietly refused, a weak excuse leaving his lips before he slumped off into the dark, away from the solace of the fires.

Remembering the hollow look in Theseus’ eyes, how small and brittle the man appeared was difficult for Percival, but it wasn’t something new. He’d remember all of the moments he shared with the strange man he’d come to love through the desolation of battle, the stink of death, and the endless nights of fear, especially since his capture. When Grindelwald wasn’t torturing him for information or taunting him over the fact his “best and brightest” didn’t have a clue, Percival was left with only his thoughts, his memories.

The thud of the front door opening alerted Percival to Grindelwald’s impending return, so he began to prepare himself. It was always difficult to tell whether or not the man would “visit” him in his cell or just strut about over Percival’s head, and Percival was determined not to give anything away should it be the former. He may be bound, beaten, and powerless, but if there was one thing Percival could do it was to keep the bastard from gaining any information that might help him further his plans. With that in mind, Percival’s occlumency shields were fortified when Grindelwald waltzed through the door, a sardonic look on Percival’s face.

Stopping in front of Percival, Grindelwald knelt before his prisoner, grabbed his chin in a deceptively gentle grip, and said, “Good evening, Director, how was your day? Will you be so kind as to tell me about the general procedure for a situation of, ah, level 1 status?” Graves paled, if things were at a level one then something horrible must have happened, but before he could even think to speak, Grindelwald pointed Percival’s wand between his eyes and said, “Legilimens.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What the ever loving fuck is up with AO3 right now? Where are my italics? Where are my paragraphs?! I swear my writing does not normally look like this! What the shit.


	5. V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everybody! I'm not dead! But this chapter is absolute crap, and I'm so sorry. Please forgive me.

V.  
With Tina glaring intently at him Newt was forced to lead his guests back to his shed to discuss the situation at hand. He conjured a chair for everyone before crumpling into his own seat, his head in his hands. 

There was no way he was going to get out of at least discussing how he knew Percival- Ms. Goldstein might just Reducta him into a bloody heap if he didn’t tell her something. But even admitting to his tryst with Percival during the war was difficult. Where to start, first, and how much could he tell them without possibly compromising his involvement in the war itself? Should he tell them an amended version of the truth, a partial truth, or an all-out lie? Even as Newt thought to lie about the situation Ms. Goldstein the younger locked eyes with him. Bollocks.

“Well?” Ms. Goldstein, Tina, prompted. Newt tried to swallow, but it caught in his throat. He’d been so good about avoiding or obfuscating his memories, keeping them at bay with distractions, but now that he was being, well, badgered, into remembering part of it he found he was overwhelmed.

It was hell.

People were wont to overuse that phrase, often to cliché, but in this instance, Newt could say definitively that it was quite accurate. Sulfur, smoke, and rotting flesh hung in the air like a miasma, and the screams of the dying a cacophony of suffering.

Watching Bren Mills’ face blow apart from a muggle bullet. The look in Mark Doyle’s eyes as he tried to hold in his intestines, begging for them to stay where they belonged.  
Listening to young Tommy Benetti cry for his mother while the healer was forced to remove his left leg; magic could only do so much, especially when they were low on energy and potions, ‘better that he loses the leg than to go septic and lose his life’, the healer said. 

Percival clutching his arms like a vice while Moreau pulled a bit of mortar from his side; he had to go slow, otherwise Percival could bleed out in moments. Those deep brown eyes riveted to Newt’s face, teeth gritted in agony. But Newt could see his lips moving slightly, eyes moving over his face now, rather than static. “What is it, Graves?” he’d asked of Percival then. 

He took a deep breath through his nose before replying, “Counting. Hng! F-Freckles. Makes it- hurt- less!” Newt sat with Percival’s head in his lap as the healer finished up his surgery, his tentative friend having lost consciousness after the third row of stitches.  
Sitting in the dark, thinking about all of the people he’d killed that day, and all the days before that. All the blood on his hands. How many of those men had families? How many were just as afraid as he was? What right did he have to take their lives like that? How could his brother have ever wanted to be a part of this pointless massacre? Why the bloody hell was everything so loud? Couldn’t it stop for a moment?! 

Percival’s hands on him, both of them hunched together in a secluded corner of the camp, rutting together desperately. Newt’s hands gripping Percival’s collar, his teeth imbedded in the meat of the other man’s shoulder to muffle his cries, while Percival held their cocks in his hand, the other gripping Newt’s head to his shoulder tightly.   
The ache of his jaw as he released Percival’s abused flesh, coupled with the heavy rasp of Percival’s breath in his ear as- “O-Oh my!” the sound of Queenie Goldstein’s shocked breath drew Newt from his reverie. The blonde’s eyes were round, and there was a light blush high on her cheeks. Tina Goldstein was looking at her sister in concern, hand on her wand, while Jacob just looked on in confusion.

With a huff Newt said, “I did ask you n-not to pry, Ms. Goldstein. I’ll only ask once more. Please. St-Stay out of my head.” He held the younger Goldstein’s gaze until she looked away contrite, nodding her assent. “Thank you.” Newt murmured.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Newt looked to the older Goldstein sister, her face strained over what her sister had done. “Misses Goldstein, Mr. Kowalski, I can’t viably lie to you with Ms. Goldstein’s legilimency, so I will tell you the truth. I can’t threaten you into keeping my secrets, but I can guarantee that many people’s livelihoods, and possibly even their lives, are contingent upon my ability to maintain the lie.”

Tina grew even more rigid in her seat, while Queenie was subdued, even Jacob, ignorant to the full scope of his situation, could sense that this was not the time for brevity.  
With a great sigh, Newt began to explain an endeavor he’d set out on t protect someone he loved. 

“You must understand, I care a great deal for my brother. It was for this reason that, during the first of the Great War, I did something highly illegal.” Newt pursed his lips and continued. “My brother is a patriot, and above all a good man; he abhorred the fact that the wizarding world was content to whittle away the war, while muggles were dying in droves. He disagreed with the ban set up by the Ministry which forbid any wizard from joining the fighting; they were afraid of the loss of magical life, without any care for their muggle brothers, and this left Theseus bereft.”

“He decided that he was going to forego the ban; he was going to do what was right, rather than what was easy, and he believed he was prepared to face the consequences of his actions. But he was mistaken. Our parents are very strict purebloods, with direct ties to the Sacred 28- the most powerful and elite in wizarding society,” he directed at Jacob who seemed to grow more confused as Newt continued, “And they were not pleased that their heir was both defying the decision of the Ministry of Magic, and that he was risking their good name over “ a bunch of filthy muggles”, as our mother put it.”

Newt had to swallow before he could continue, and he was grateful that the Goldstein’s and Jacob were willing to let him finish before they asked their questions.   
“Our parents threatened to disown him, if he decided to go through with his plans. Theseus, Gryffindor that he is, was prepared to bully his way through, certain that out parents would understand after everything was said and done, but I knew that they weren’t bluffing, because they’d already done as much to me.”

“I knew that they wouldn’t hesitate to rid themselves of the stain of yet another son who refused to obey authority, so I came up with a plan to protect my brother and have his desire to fight for those in need fulfilled. I signed up for the British Army, under his name, after informing our parents that I would do so. We agreed that, after the war was over, Theseus would take over whatever responsibilities I’d acquired, and, if I died or shamed the family again, my parents would say that I wanted to have a share of my brother’s glory. They would say that I forged my brother’s enlistment form, so I could be special for once, and that they were too afraid for my life to report me. My only objective was to survive, and make sure that my brother was safe; there was nothing I could do for myself, but just this once I could look out for Theseus.”

“And that is how I know Percival Graves. I met him in the trenches during the great war, we became friends, comrades, and… eventually lovers. That, Ms. Goldstein, is how I know that, the man in your office claiming to be Percival Graves is an imposter. Any questions?”

Wiping a hand over her eyes, Tina blew out a great breath before leaving her seat to pace the small room. She turned around the space about 4 times before stopping at her chair. “Alright,” she said, “I’m not saying that I believe you, I mean you just admitted to being expelled for crying out loud, what would we do now? How would we prove your theory? I’m not an auror anymore, as you so succinctly reminded me, and you’re already on thin ice with this case of creatures. How are we supposed to prove that my former boss is an imposter?”

Sitting heavily, Tina laid her head in her hands, while her sister rubbed her back.

Newt ran both of his hands over his face, and into his hair, before huffing loudly. “I’m not sure,” he said, “But for now we need to locate my creatures, before they can be harmed, or cause a scene. Once all of my missing creatures are safely back in my case, we can focus on how to reveal this charlatan, and then we can try and locate the real Percival Graves.”

Tina pinched the bridge of her nose, before looking to Queenie; the blonde looked at Newt, and then back at her sister, before nodding. “He’s not lying, Teenie, and he’s not wrong either.” She admitted, “I’ve been noticing some strange stuff with people’s thoughts in the office for a little while now, but I wasn’t sure if it was worth telling you about, and then you got stuck in Wand Permits and I forgot.”

Tina grabbed her sister’s hand, and held it in both of hers, saying, “It’s not your job to pay attention to the thoughts of every auror, and department head, Queenie. In fact, haven’t I told you to keep your head down about your powers? I don’t want them to find out you’re a natural legilimens and try to use you for something or another. I refuse to let them use you, do you understand?” Queenie smiled at her sister, tears in her eyes, and nodded. 

“Alright, Mr. Scamander,” Tina turned her attention to Newt, “Where do we start recapturing your crazy creatures?”  
It took a great deal of effort, but Newt managed to barely restrain an eyeroll. “We start, Ms. Goldstein, by looking into any sightings of “crazy creatures” within the city- probably starting with Delilah. She’s in season, you see, and is also rather conspicuous on her own.” Newt stood, grabbing his coat, before turning to Tina, and asking, “Where would you say a Saharan animal could go, in this climate and terrain, Ms. Goldstein?”

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I literally haven't written any kind of fanfiction since my shitty self insert from middle school- shut up you all know you had one, even if it was just in your head- so this'll be really choppy. I've had this particular prompt on my bookmarks for several months, and I've finally decided to just say screw it, and post the damn thing. I don't have a beta, so I'd appreciate it if you could bear with me. I've got a rough outline made up, so I at least have an idea of where this is going, but I can't guarantee any kind of stable updating schedule.


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